


Raspberry

by Eluthrien



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Cake, F/M, Kink Meme, pastry seduction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-22
Updated: 2015-05-22
Packaged: 2018-03-31 18:17:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3987967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eluthrien/pseuds/Eluthrien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dragon Age Kink Meme Fill::</p><p>Seduction by frilly cakes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo I've never written anything for a kink meme fill before, this kinda got away from me.
> 
>  
> 
> ...also the first I've ever written anything REMOTELY porny...  
> I blame Solas.

I awoke with a start, a gnawing in my belly. I opened and closed my mouth, smacking my tongue to the roof of my mouth in vain attempt to remember my last meal. Thoughts clouded by sleep and the remnants of an extraordinarily dry, extraordinarily good Starkhaven Red flashed behind my closed eyes.

There had been a fête, a dinner to honor Josephine’s latest alliance conquest, in the form of one Duke of Alysienne.

A round pompous man, thick of form and head, the Duke offered nothing in the way of coin or military might. His small parcels of lands however did happen to fall conveniently on a nondescript, infertile outcropping of Orlais that just so happened to jut into the Tevinter Wilderness.

A few months prior, Josephine had begun to hear whispers of Venatori agents traversing the deep Tevinter woods and using the Duke’s modest hold as an entry point to Orlais. Rather than denounce the Duke as a traitor to the Chantry and to Orlais, naturally Josephine thought it appropriate to invite the ham-faced man to a dinner. _In his honor_.

I grunted at the absurdity of the evening; the cordial “hellos” and “how do you do’s” exchanged with a man who very well could be holding out a hand-stitched welcome mat out for Corypheus’s minions, undid the heart of me.

Still, I trusted our ambassador with my life and the lives of all Thedas. I knew her ploy of friendship would pay off as it always did. At the end of the evening, we’d either have an ally in a crucial position, or Orlais would need another Duke of Alysienne.

Now thoroughly in a sour mood, and well aware of my apparent lack of sustenance I pushed myself out from under the heavy shemlen quilt. I paced to the heavy oak door, hoping that Gatsi had managed to oil the ear-piercing shriek that emanated from the ancient hinges. That damnable banshee scream meant that someone would know the Inquisitor was up and about, and that was the _last_ thing I wanted.

My fingers pressed into the grooves of the door and I hesitantly it pushed it forward. Thankfully, I was greeted by nothing but the whoosh of cool air from across the cavernous staircase down into the belly of Skyhold.

 

 _Thank the Creators._ I chuckled to myself. _Or rather, thank Gatsi._

 

I had grown to love the people of Skyhold, my friends, my companions, advisors and the refugees that had taken shelter with us high in the mountains, that was no question. Tonight however, I desperately needed a bit of silence. And food.

I found my way down the many stairs and into the darkened kitchen with ease, having grown accustomed to the darkened stone of the keep for some time now. The rest of the keep was silent, sleeping off the feast or drinking the remainder of that utterly delicious red down at the tavern. Though I could have evaded guards, or brushed off visiting dignitaries it was so much easier not to be confronted by duty at all.

A wave of normalcy crashed over me as I stepped into the kitchen. At this moment, I was just a hungry dalish woman in a room full of leftovers.

Stepping under the ancient archway, I was immediately greeted by the lingering smell of baked breads, fresh nutmeg and the sticky sweet honey glaze that the cook used to roast the great Druffalo.

It truly had been a feast for the ages, Josephine had spared no expense.

I stood still at the shock of all the cleaned plates piled high, the kettles sitting filled with water and frothy soap and realized how much work had gone into the preparation, creation and clean-up of today’s party. Surveying the scene, my stomach began to grumble beneath my linen shift and my eyes lit upon a collection of tin plates and covers.

 _Cake-sized_ plates and covers.

“Dread Wolf, take me.” I muttered happily under my breath and scuttled over to the collection of plates.

I had barely reached my quarry, when a whisper from the door shocked me out of my reverie.

“Be careful what you wish for, Da’len,” a gentle whisper called into the kitchen.

“Fenedhis, Solas.” I chuckled, silently berating myself for not being more aware. “I didn’t think anyone else was awake.”

The mage bowed slightly, illuminated from behind by the blue light filtering in the windows. Flecks of orange from the waning fires danced around his form, blown about by the opening of the door. His chiseled face was darkened, but I could see the glint of his pale blue eyes directed at me and I shivered slightly. Solas’ gaze was always so intent, so completely stripping and I regularly found myself faltering under the weight of it.

I waited for him to say something, but as per usual, found myself floundering in the silence.

_What was it about him that undid me so?_

“In here for a snack too?” I grinned at the man, hoping my not-so-forced childlike glee of an empty kitchen piled with delicious leftovers would make up for the silence.

“Perhaps.” he replied lightly, crossing the distance to my side of the kitchen, swaying with strength and raw grace.

 _Maybe he had been a dancer._  I thought to myself.

It wouldn’t have been odd, many elven men spent time studying the ancient forms of dance that had been whispers in the Dalish legends. Both City elf and Dalish would come together to watch the performances, usually ancient rituals or long-forgotten stories.

I imagined him in the traditional garb of the elvhen dancer, feet wrapped in light linens, legs wrapped in soft, tight halla skins, and bare-chested. I sucked in a breath at the thought but quickly chastised myself. I was half his age, and less than half as interesting. Sure, the anchor lent me a modicum of intrigue, but we both knew I wasn’t “chosen.” I was just a spy who got lucky (or unlucky depending on the day). Solas however had lived a life of mystery, rooting through the deepest secrets of fade, traveling and discovering histories long buried by time. He was probably among the wisest to walk Thedas in this age. I still had no clue what the mage saw in _me_.  

Startling me from my ruminations, I realized Solas had asked me a question. This was not going well.

“Oh - I apologize. I just awoke, Solas -” I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts. “Can you repeat that?”

He smiled gently and nodded at the cake tins.

“It is fine,” he began, drawing in a breath. “I was merely curious if you enjoyed the Orlesian cakes, Inquisitor.”

“Oh!” I smiled. “ Well, I didn’t quite get a chance to try them, actually.”

“A pity.” he moved past me and raised one of the covers from their plates, revealing a small, but incredibly ornate feat of baking. I was instantly surrounded by the warm, pungent aroma of vanilla, cardamom and fig, making my jaw ache with want of food. The cake was 3 tiers tall, each level ensconced in swirls of different icing; chocolate, vanilla and pink, and was dusted with some sort of sparkly, sugary trickery.

  
“They are rather quite delicious.” he stretched out one long lean finger and stuck it right into what I had guessed to be vanilla icing. He quirked a ruddy eyebrow at my now wide-open mouth and drawing the digit up to his lips he sucked the yellow creme from his fingertip.

“Orlesian Vanilla Bean.” he sighed. “Delightful.”

“I see,” I mumbled, trying to palm the wooden countertop, lest my knees turn to icing too. I twisted my heated cheeks away from his expectant face, to the safer haven of the sugary treats and willed my muddled mind to focus.

We had met in the fade only a few short nights ago. Our journey had begun innocently enough; traveling through Haven, Solas sharing wisdom and memory from the early moments of the Breach.

Though as surely as I had initiated the kiss, Solas surely finished it. I could recall the warmth of his mouth closed around mine, the earnestness with which he worked his jaw against me with startling clarity.

He had asked for time, afterwards. If it meant we could kiss like that again, I’d wait until the coming of the next age.

_Was this his answer then?_

Overcome with frustration, amusement, and a lingering burn of the dinner wine, I raised a finger with purpose, and slid it down the slick icing of the the chocolate layer.

I was hungry after all.

Turning back to the mage, I popped my fingertip into my mouth and dared to let it smack obscenely as I pulled it back out.

 _Two can play at that game_. I thought darkly.

 


	2. Chapter 2

“Oh it _is_ good. Chocolate.” I said, nodding enthusiastically while trying to stifle the blush that was creeping up my ears. As if reading my mind, Solas’ eyes lingered on my collarbone, raked up my neck and fell upon the curve of my sharp little ears.

_Damn it all._

I stuck the same finger back into the third, pink, pristine tier.

“I’m not sure what flavor this might be -” I muttered as I examined the icing along my fingertip.

Abruptly, but with a gentle command Solas reached out and softly clasped his long, lean hand around my wrist.

“May I?” his stormy grey eyes twinkled, as he nodded at the sugary dollop along my finger.

My breath caught in my throat.

“By all means, Solas.” I managed to whisper.

The mage took a step closer, pushing my backside against the wooden tabletop and stooped low as he slowly raised my hand to his mouth.  His steady eyes bore into mine and held them with a burning intensity as soft lips passed over and around my finger. I bit back a moan as I felt his tongue, warm and wet, licking and sucking the icing from my skin.

“I cannot place the flavor.” he released my hand, causing some of the icing to trail on his lips. “Perhaps you should try it.”

Before I could respond, Solas had dipped his head to mine, and with two sticky fingers he tilted my chin upwards, and I was caught again in those swirling grey depths.

Carried by a heady wave of lust and impatience, I brought my lips to his, tenderly closing around the trail of pink cream. I felt him tremble at my light touch, and his body stilled as he sucked in a gasp of the cool night air. Just as I began to worry I had overstepped my bounds, misunderstood him, I was swept up into his embrace.

Lean, strong arms enveloped my waist and tipped me ever-so-gently backwards as Solas returned the kiss.

_Oh it was even better than in the fade._

Our mouth met slowly at first, tasting each other. He was herbs, warm cut wood with the subtlest hint of orlesian vanilla bean and… was that raspberry?  

His lips danced around mine and I opened my mouth for him, feeling his tongue slide into me with intoxicating slowness. Feeling, learning, tasting.

I pressed myself against him, eager for more contact, aching to be closer. He laughed softly into my mouth and in one fluid motion answered by lifting me onto the tabletop and stepping in between my legs.

My shift had ridden up, leaving me nearly exposed save for my small clothes but I couldn’t be bothered to care. Modesty was a shemlen invention and I had no need of it, especially now.

I wantonly ground back into him as he deepened the kiss. Suddenly, his lips left my mouth and laid a trail of hurried, hungry kisses along my neck and down to my collarbone. I gasped into the darkness, sending that breathy intake of air echoing down the scullery corridor.

I felt him smile then, against my flushed skin. He tentatively brought a hand around to my belly as he continued to lay soft kisses against a neck. Ever so slightly he let it travel upwards along the fabric of my nightdress, grazing the bottom of breast -- asking for permission with the lightest touch of his fingers.

“Please, Solas.” I whispered into the darkness.

His hand was pure heat, pulsing warmth even through the linen of my shift. Gently he palmed one breast and feeling the weight of it, delicately squeezed the flesh with supreme tenderness.

 I couldn’t keep myself from smiling at his restraint. Here was one of the most powerful mages in all of Thedas, capable of tearing apart man and beast with a flick of his wrist, touching me like I was glass.

At the thought, my body betrayed me and I bucked into his hands, drawing out a thick, dark laugh from the man.

Dropping his hands to my waist, Solas pulled my bottom to the very edge of the table, so that I was just teetering on the wood, my weight balanced across his hips and my legs splayed to either side. An electric thrill coursed through my body at the lewdness of this position. Leaning in, he pressed against me and I could feel him, his hardness through his tunic.

Unbeknownst to me, my mouth opened and out tumbled a risque half moan, half whine; some desperate cry of wanting that I’d never made before. And I rolled my body against his.

In answer, Solas crushed his mouth against mine once more, one hand on my breast, the other kneading circles against my lower back.

Sparks of lightning began to flicker from his fingertips, whether purposeful, or a symptom of a loss of control I didn’t know. I didn’t quite care, but the latter thought made me grind myself against him that much harder.

My breath was coming in gasps now, torn between drawing life from the air and breathing through the man pressed into me. We were crashing limbs, fighting to touch, and to hold and to drive out the space between each other.

As I pushed against him, I felt a familiar heat begin to coil within and my motions became erratic. Solas responded by wrapping an arm around me back and slowly trailing one hand down my nightdress, in tentative question.

“Eleria.” He whispered into my hair. A request? As if I would deny him. My answer was a hushed moan, whispered deep into the cotton folds of his tunic.

His hand dipped under the hem of the dress and came to rest on my belly, pressing ever so slightly in response. With a painful slowness he let his palm drift downward until it hovered just above my small clothes.

He waited a heartbeat longer, and then pressed his hand down onto me.

The warmth jolted me out of my reverie and I threw my head back and clapped a hand over my open mouth. As he began slow circles over top of my small clothes I leaned back and gazed at the man above me. He was beautiful, built sturdier than any elf I had met, wide shoulders and muscled back.  He was staring at me intently, eyes ablaze and mouth turned up in the smallest of smirks.

“Could you come like this?” he whispered into my ear.

The shock of the question nearly undid me right there.

“Y-yes.” I stammered, eyes wide and glassy.

“Good.” Solas smiled, pressing down ever so slightly harder, making his point.

Waves of pleasure began wracking my body, muscles spasming in reply and curling me upwards and into him. The hand on my back spread wider, held me stronger, supporting me as I released my hold on reality.

“Oh gods. Oh Solas.” I seethed into his ear, moving with his hand.

I’d never been touched like this before. His long, lean fingers did not seek out my burning skin, but stayed on top of my fraying small clothes. Teasing, coaxing me to nearly unbearable pleasure but denying my muscles something to clench around, to draw in.

It was exquisite pleasure, exquisite frustration.

“Come for me.” he growled into my shoulder, rocking with the force of his hand working against me.

And how I did.

I curled into him, every muscle in my body on fire, quaking and pulling and tearing, pushing me against his hand and his hidden hardness.

I cried out, (I couldn’t hope not to) as my world shattered in sparks of light and reformed in the shape of the man above me. His skin was damp with effort, but his eyes blazed as they searched out mine.

“Solas - I..” I panted, anxious to fill the silence that now seemed so overwhelming.

“Thank you.” he breathily interrupted, allowing his weight to fall into me, the table now supporting us both. “You are a truly, beautiful sight to behold.”

He was thanking _me_?

My breath was still ragged, my muscles still churning but I stilled myself enough to return his stare, to hold his eyes with the weight that held mine. And I smiled.

“What about you, Solas?” Pleasure and question written as plainly as the vallaslin across my skin.

He slowly shook his head, smiling at my crestfallen face. “This was for you, my heart.

“But-” I began, but he laid one finger across my bruised and sensitive lips.

“Hush.” he smiled. “It is nearly 4 in the morning, the breadmakers will be in at any moment.” he dipped his lips to my ear and whispered hotly, “And what I want to do to you will require more time and _considerably_ more space.”

“I-” I fumbled for words, rendered yet again breathless by the man.

“Raspberry.” I finally said resolutely.

“Excuse me?” Solas laughed as he tore off a chunk of crusty bread and handed me half.

“The pink icing was raspberry.”

****  
  



End file.
